Baby, There's A Shark In The Water
by TheEndsongAbyssXV
Summary: In the days leading up to the phone call, he had been busy following orders, packets he had to deliver, assignments he had to review and a lot of other mundane SHIELD things. But Phil Coulson took it in stride, knowing it was just another day on the job. Until he found out his parents were dead and he was now the guardian of his 25-year-old autistic sister. (Eventual Banner/OC)
1. So This Is How It Begins

In the days leading up to the phone call, he had been busy following orders. There were mission packets he had to deliver, assignments he had to review, and a lot of other mundane SHIELD things. But Phil Coulson took it in stride, knowing it was just another day on the job. Until he found out his parents were dead and he was now the sole guardian of his 25-year-old autistic sister. Phil sat at his desk, staring blankly at the computer screens, detailing information on the Tesseract and the so-called-'scrapped' Avengers Initiative. He was supposed to be gathering the people listed in the document, but at the moment, he was numb. He get utterly drained, not a single flicker of emotion going through him; just vague bits of conversations from Fury and a few agents who had come by to talk to him. What was he going to do?

...

_Agent Maria Hill had just walked by with a cup of coffee and a copy of the Boston Globe, scanning the Art and Life section with a smile. She had family there, and apparently her younger brother and sister were helping to repaint and reconstruct the less savory poarts of the city. She and another agent had been talking about it when the phone rang. Phil, who had asked what Maria was so happy about, ignored it at first. By the fourth call, he decided it must have been important so he walked over to his desk and picked up the device, putting the receiver to his ear. _

_"Agent Coulson, how can I-"_

_"Philip? It's Janine, dear," the voice on the other line reminded him of sunny days at the lake, eating pie and swimming with his family. He often spent holidays at his grandparent's vinyard, helping to harvest the grapes, apples, and other produce that his aunt and uncle would turn into wine, or mead. He hadn't spoken to much of his family since joining SHIELD, because it always kept him busy, but he did enjoy the times they did talk or see each-other. He smiled a little, but instantly he knew something was amiss. No one _ever_ called his work number. _

_His voice dropped an octave, "Aunt J?" He walked away from his colleagues, not wanting them to overhear his conversation. He hadn't seen or spoken to his aunt in nearly three years, so he was a bit surprised to be talking to her now. "What's going on, is everything alright?" _

_The short pause made his heart sink. With a small sigh, Janine spoke again, "Philip, honey, there was an accident." _

_Phil rose an eyebrow, "With who?" He braced himself; his grandfather had finally passed, or his stupid cousin had shot himself by mistake while hunting. He absolutely was not prepared for what his aunt said next. _

_"They were coming back from their trip in Cabo, but they didn't make it." There was a small sob. "The plane went down in the desert, there were no survivors." _

_A chill swept up Phil Coulson's spine and he steeled himself. "Who-" he cleared his throat, "Who was it?" _

_"Your parents, dear. They're dead." _

...

In the hours after the phone call, Phil had kept mostly to himself. He tried to be professional, but it wasn't his own feelings he was worried about. He had talked to various family members, and close friends, but nothing cheered him up. He felt a cold sense of dread inside of his chest. Sure, his parent's death was a shock, and it devastated him, but there was something else that would be affected by the loss. Something far worse.

...

_The funeral had been hard mostly due to the fact that his family began fighting over what to do about the estate of Phil Coulson Sr. and his wife Catronia. The will stated it be donated to charity, which was fine with Phil, he didn't care much about the mansion. He was worried about something much more valuable. His uncles and grandfather instantly began discussing how to divide the money, while the women of the family talked about the vacation homes and assets. They were fighting about who got how much money, or who got hold of the car and beach house and it made Phil blanch visibly. Did no one care...?_

_"What about Wendi?" he asked aloud. _

_Instantly the various family members quieted, shuffling and looking embarrased or ashamed. _

_Phil's voice grew heated, "Does she even know?"_

_Garrett, his father's older brother, was the first to say anything, "It's _Wendi_, Phil. She won't understand." _

_Rage, hot and dark, spread through the man, and he opened his mouth a little in shock. "She's not a _child_, she's an adult!" _

_His grandfather made a motion to talk but Phil cut him off "Just because she has a disability automatically means she doesn't need to be involved in family affairs? She's autistic, not brain dead!" _

_"We know that, Philip, it's just that-"_

_"What? Just what?" Most of his cousins anf family were looking at him in shock; he never rose his voice, or had much of a temper, but right now, his face flushed, hands clenched, he looked like he were going to punch somone. He looked dangerous. _

_His grandfather gave a weary sigh and leaned on his cane. His uncles and aunts exhanched glances with each other, and his cousins milled around and talked to one another in order to avoid the coming arguments. "Listen, we all love Wendi, we do! It's just that she has her moments where she doesn't exactly understand things, and I think it would be hard on her if we suddenly told her that her parents had passed away!" _

_Phil shook his head and gave a sharp laugh of disbelief. "Are you fucking serious?" The harshness in his voice made some people flinch; Philip Coulson _never_ swore, especially in the presence of women and family. "You don't have to treat her like she's a little kid, she's a smart girl! Need I remind you that she has a Master's degree in marine sciences and shark biology? Not to mention her credentials in American Sign Language." _

_A few people shuffled uncomfortably and Phil gave a heavy sigh before scrubbing a hand over his face in exasperation. "I understand what you're saying, Wendi does have some issues with change in her life and this definitely is going to be hard on her, but at least give her some credit. She's not an idiot." _

_His grandfather nodded and turned to the rest of the family gathered around the graves. "Well, I guess this is good then, since he seems to be so serious about her." _

_"He'll do a fine job." One of his uncles said with a relieved smile. There were various wrods of agreement and Phil felt a twinge of confusion. What the hell were they talking about? _

_"What's going on?" he asked. _

_His grandfather cleared his throat and pulled a thick envelope out of his inner suit pocket. He opened it up and flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. With a smug expression, he thrust the papers at his grandson, andPhil took them, eyes roaming the printed words and signatures. "You are the sole guardian of Wendi. She's _your_ responsibility now, boy." _

...

"Lip."

Coulson turned to the chair behind his and looked at the young woman in it. Her short mahogany hair was in slight disarray, and her lip was trembling slightly. Her brown eyes were glossy with a thick layer of unshed tears, and her hands were wringing the hem of her t-shirt. "Wendi," he stood up and walked to the woman, kneeling in front of the chair and cupping the girl's face, tilting her chin to look at him. "I know it's hard, but you'll be okay. I'm here, and so is Fury. SHIELD is your home now." Wendi Coulson blinked, tears falling down her cheeks and staining her JAWS shirt. She pushed her thick, black rimmed glasses up and rubbed her eyes, small pitiful whimpers coming from her throat.

"You can't leave me." her voice was heartbroken and Phil smiled.

"You know I wouldn't do that. It's my job to look after my little sister." He wiped her tears and pulled her into a hug. "I promise that I'll be here when you need me." Even as he said it, he felt it was a lie and the bitterness of the promise stung. He always promised his parents he'd take care of Wendi if something happened and now that it had, he was terrified. Fifteen years her senior, they weren't together too much growing up. He was in highschool by the time she entered kindergarten, and was working at Fury's side with SHIELD when she graduated highschool herself. That's not to say he didn't care for his sibling, he loved Wendi very much and the two would often send letters to each other, and maybe a care package or two and they'd talk on the phone whenever they weren't too busy. Growing up, Wendi had had a fascination with marine life, specifically, sharks.

Her room had always been full of pictures and stuffed animals, books and documentaries on the creatures and she had decided at a young age to become a marine biologist so she could open a shark sanctuary. Phil had found it comical, but then she graduated high school and promptly went to California State University in Monterey Bay to join the shark biology department. She'd also spent two and a half years in Brazil working with shark breeders and touring the rain forest on her holidays. Her love of sharks was the only thing that kept her in school. Wendi was known as a 'high functioning autistic' and wasn't too different than other people, unless a situation caused a change in her routine. She didn't like super loud noises, or overly large crowds. Her tendency to wander was also an issue, but Wendi never strayed to far from her brother nowadays. She'd never liked being alone for too long, so Phil made to call her every night when she was at college, or shoot her an email to let her know he was thinking of her. The day he got the phone call from the hospital, he thought he'd be able to handle taking care of her.

Now he wasn't so sure.

Wendi had locked herself in a janitorial closet of the helicarrier and refused to come out. He had been given an assignment to collect some people to help retrieve the Tesseract and get one of the best agents SHIELD had by the mad man known as Loki, a god from a realm known as Asgard. He had to leave and wanted Wendi to stay with Agent Hill while he was away, but Wendi had taken his briefcase and locked herself in the closet. She was tapping out the tune of Ah-Ha's "Take On Me" against the door and was humming along.

Phil leaned into the door, knocking on its shiny metallic surface. "Wendi-"

"No!" Came the reply. "You said-you said-" Her voice broke, as though she were unable to speak out of anger. Phil sighed, he knew there was no way he could leave unless he took her with him, and that wasn't possible right now. It would be too dangerous for her, especially if she walked off to explore or something.

"Wendi," Director Fury had walked over to Coulson, knowing full well that this was going to go nowhere fast. "I require your assistance."

The girl continued to hum, clearly waiting for an elaboration of some sort.

"Agent Dawson says that he doesn't believe that the Megalodon ever think it's a folktale, like the Lochness Monster." Fury smirked at Phil. "Kindly correct him for me, will you?" The tapping ceased and the door opened and Wendi was revealed. All 115lbs of irritation and exasperation. Brown eyes were narrowed, and her lip curled in a silent snarl.

Phil mused in his sister's disgruntled expression, and he watched as she fiddled with the hem of her JAWS shirt, before frowning severely and thrusting the briefcase at him. "Are you kidding me?!" She stomped off towards the flight deck in search of the 'stupid boy' and disappeared around a corner, mumbling things under her breath.

Phil let out a sigh, "Thanks for that,"

"When in doubt, disprove her college thesis." Fury turned serious. "I'll be going to recruit Rogers, you locate Agent Romanov."

"This isn't going to be much fun, is it?" Phil asked.

Fury snorted, "It never is."


	2. What's Happening?

Phil Coulson watched as his sister leaned over the table and poked Agent Barton with a ruler. In her other hand was a book labeled "The Mortal Instruments", and Phil was amused by the disgruntled expression on Wendi's face.

She waved the book around, "This book _sucks_, how did Agent Romanoff even read this?"

Clint shrugged with a grin, running a hand over his short blond hair as his shoulder moved, "Dunno, I never tried it."

"Don't. It's horrible." Wendi had taken to Barton quickly, the two becoming fast friends; bonding over books and arguing over various series, as well as films and plays. Other agents would join in on their conversation, adding their two cents and causing an even bigger ruckus.

This was one of those times.

Maria Hill, one of the higher ranking SHIELD agents, was amused, her lips curled into a small smile as she spoke to Wendi, "I never read any of those teen novels, they bore me."

Agent Devereaux smirked, blue eyes tracking Clint from behind his horn-rimmed glasses, "Who read the Twilight saga?" Various sounds of disgust were heard from all over the room, and Phil chuckled at the horrified expression on Wendi's face, as though someone had just offered her a bowl of shark fin soup.

"_TWILIGHT ISN'T LITERATURE!_" she hissed. "There are so many things wrong with that series!" She got animated then, her speech getting faster and her hands moving with her words. She ranted about how vampires were supposed to be vicious creatures of the night who preyed on humans and killed for sport. Not "sparkly, washed-out, girly-men". By the end of it, the other agents were laughing so hard they were gasping for air.

"Damn straight!" Clint laughed. "I saw the movies, because there was nothing better on TV, and I will never get those hours of my life back."

The agents resumed discussing their favorite reading material, and Wendi looked up at her sibling with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Phil knew that it would be a long time before she fully adjusted to her new life, and the things she's had to go through over the past three weeks. But she was a strong girl. Phil had no doubt that, despite her flaws, Wendi could get over these obstacles better than almost anyone in her position.

Fury had even offered to allow the woman to work for SHIELD, as an organizer or something. Wendi had a penchant for keeping things in order, and she often organized Phil's paperwork because the man was so messy. It was also a ploy to keep the two of them closer together so that they didn't have to worry about each other. Whenever the Agents went on an assignment, Wendi would pace and wander around until her brother came through the door, after which she would inspect him for injuries. It was silly, but she was so scared of losing her brother that it was all she could think of.

...

"Nope!" Wendi looked at her watch and groaned in exasperation. She was eight minutes late for lunch and now it was going to throw everything else off! She stormed across the weapons room, where she had holed up in to read, and snatched up her Army medic bag and rummaged through it with an almost-but-not-quite-angry expression on her face. Phil watched as she pulled out a spoon, a Ziploc bag with two bagels in it, and a large jar of extra crunchy peanut butter. Among the food were various books about sharks and marine life, as well as a familiar looking manila folder.

_Some things never change, I guess._ He mused. Wendi's favorite food was peanut butter and anything with peanuts or peanut-flavoring. She also loved apples, carrots and anything salty. She wasn't much of a meat eater, but she did enjoy eating sushi and sashimi. He watched as she pulled out another baggie that was full of apple slices and within minutes she had a peanut butter and apple bagel sandwich. Next she pulled out a glass bottle filled with a pale white liquid that Phil thought was milk, until he remembered that Wendi _loathed_ the substance.

"Horchata or coconut water?" he asked, taking seat beside the woman and stealing an apple slice. Wendi took another bite of her sandwich and held up two fingers. She took a gulp and swallowed, frowning as her brother took another piece of fruit.

"Yo, that's mine!" she glared, grabbing the bag and putting it away. Leaning over, Phil reached into the Army bag and pulled out the folder, labeled 'Avengers'. It contained the dossiers of all the supposedly 'scrapped' Avengers Initiative.

"And that's _mine,_" he said in a more serious tone, wondering just how in the hell she managed to get it out of his briefcase. "How can you even eat that much peanut butter?"

"Because it's delicious?" Wendi replied, licking the spoon off. "It's full of protein, which is good for swimmers."

Phil looked at Wendi, eyes taking everything in. He hadn't seen her in so long, and she'd changed. She was taller now, maybe 5'5, and a little tan, but not too much (she was just a tad darker than he was) but she was still thin. She'd always been scrawny as a child, but all the swimming and hiking she did in Brazil had added some muscle mass to her frame, but the stress of losing her parents, and living away from what she was used to had made her lose weight. Her cheeks were a bit hollow, but the peanut butter would probably help with that. Fatty as hell but it was equally packed with protein, like she'd said before.

Phil listened as his sister began drumming the tune of "Eye of the Tiger" against the table with her spoon, mouth moving to the lyrics. She began to dance then, sitting on the table, arms and hands moving, striking poses.

"I should never have introduced you to Supernatural."

Wendi frowned, "Oi! You like it too!" with a small grin she added, "If I ever have a son, I'm naming his Castiel or Dean."

Phil resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "It's a better choice than _Cloud_ or _Reno_."

Wendi pointed her spoon at him like a weapon, "Do _not_ hate on Final Fantasy. I seem to recall you wanting to name your children Steve and Roger after a certain someone." she teased.

Phil gave her a deadpan expression, "At least those names are normal."

Suddenly an alarm blared and Wendi clapped her hands over her ears, fear flooding her system. Agent Coulson pulled a gun out and motioned for her to hide as he jogged over to the door and peered out of it. He frowned, pressing his ear piece closer and listening to what was said.

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"Lip-" Wendi's voice was trembling, and he saw that she was clutching her Army bag like it would keep her safe. Phil motioned for her to follow him as he walked out, and the smaller brunette took off from the table, darting after her brother.

"What's happening?!" she whisper-yelled, running through the concrete halls. Dimly, she heard gunfire and it reminded her of the two nights she'd spent in Mexico three years ago. Her shark biology class was studying the migration and breeding patterns of the scalloped hammerhead when the beach had been hit by a drug cartel. A firefight had broken out and Wendi remembered that people had been running and screaming in terror. Most of the class had made it back to the bus, but Manuel, Wendi's lab partner, had been killed in the mayhem. He was one of the nicer guys, and had been one of the first people to talk to her when she arrived in Brazil. He had, like her, dreamed of opening an aquatic sanctuary. He also had a wife and two small children.

Wendi snapped out of her thoughts when she was shoved into a helicopter. Blue light was flashing on the ground below as the concrete split in a spider-web patter, and Wendi thought it was kind of pretty, but as they rose up into the air, Wendi watched as the SHIELD compound collapsed into the ground with a horrified expression.

Phil was talking on his cell phone, in a rushed tone of voice, his brow furrowed in frustration while a few other agents who made it out sat by one of the windows watching the chaos unfold.

"Shit..."

"_Did you see Clint?_"

"Who was that other guy?"

The agents discussed what they'd seen or heard, and Wendi assumed that her brother was talking to Director Fury, if his expression was anything to go by. Fifteen minutes out and she could _still_ see the smoke, a black spiral of it rising higher and higher into the sky; it was so thick it almost completely blocked out the moon.

"Yes, sir. I understand." Agent Coulson snapped his phone shut and sighed heavily before frowning and opening it again, quickly, almost with a panic, dialing a new number.

An Asgardian named Loki, also known as the "trickster god" had broken into the complex in search of the Tesseract, a mythical object of seemingly endless energy. Loki wanted it for some reason, and having commandeered the device, plus a few agents and scientists, Fury had given the order to assemble the Avengers, a group of carefully selected people with various skills, to stop the god.

Wendi eye her brother's briefcase, where he had no doubt put the dossiers back. She had a feeling he had put them back after taking them from her.

She wanted to see them.

A small, almost invisible smile graced her mouth as she carefully, slowly, nudged the object towards her with her foot. When no one was watching or looking in her direction, she quickly leaned down, pretending to mess with her show, slipped her hand inside and snatched the small, thick manila folder and stuffed it into her jacket, where it rested against her stomach. It was small, maybe eight inches long, and five in width, like a personal diary-type of thing.

She dug her iPod out of her coat pocket and set it on shuffle. As Drowning Pool's "Bodies" began to play, she thought of happier times, when life was easy and no one died. Abruptly, tears filled her eyes and Wendi looked at the floor. She wanted to go back to Brazil. The ocean, the rainforest. _Home_.

The sob that left her mouth was unheard by the chattering agents.

...

Director Fury had instructed him to call Natasha Romanoff and have her come in, after which the other so-called Avengers would be rallied and maybe they could stop Loki before the world ended or was invaded by other supernatural beings. He had just began to dial the Russian when he noticed that Agent Devereaux was pointing to something in the distance and Phil was relieved to see four other choppers in the air. Each of SHIELD's helicopters could hold sixteen people so if all of the ones in the air were full, then at least eighty agents and SHIELD employees were accounted for. There were eleven in this one, including the pilots and Wendi.

At once his eyes darted to where the woman sat, and he frowned as he caught sight of her tear-stained face and blood-shot eyes. The tears had stopped but looked like they could start up again at any moment.

"Wendi-" Phil paused as the chopper weaved and dim lights could be seen on the tarmac where the helicarrier, a massive air fortress, sat against the blacktop. After a few minutes of gentle dissension, the chopper made its landing and the agents began filing out and running to greet one another.

Phil touched his sister's shoulder, "Come when you're ready." As "Moonlight Sonata" echoed in her ears, Wendi looked up and watched her brother go.

The tears returned.


	3. Danger? What's that?

By the time she got a hold on her emotions, Wendi's iPOD had gone through 25% of its battery life. Mouthing the words to Stephen Lynch's "Craig", she pulled the small notebook from its hiding place inside her coat and opened it.

_Why am I not surprised that Captain America is the first one on the list?_ she mused, examining the small bio of the man; in the picture was a tall, well-muscled blond who looked no older than she, but was actually more along the lines of being in his nineties.

Name: Steven "Steve" Grant Rogers

Alias: Captain America

Age: Varied

Abilities: Genius level-intellect, Olympic-level athleticism, peak human physiological condition.

Master shield fighter (agility expert), tactician and marksman (handheld weapons)

Wields vibranium-steel alloy shield with hyperkinetic senses

There was a lot of other information on the man; his military records, personal history, and a bunch of other miscellaneous stuff that Wendi already knew from what Phil had taught her when she was a kid. Wendi was a Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and Sailor Moon kind of girl, but she also enjoyed the superheroes her brother liked.

"I'm Batman," she murmured to herself, thinking of Supernatural. She flipped through the book some more, skimming the pages of one Anthony "Tony" Edward Stark, and Clinton "Clint" "Hawkeye" Barton. She knew Clint well enough to not have to read his file, and she didn't bother reading Stark's, because the man was a big deal in South America, and she'd read plenty of magazines about him. He donated lots of money to different places, including the World Wildlife Fund, which helped aid animals and those who wanted to preserve the planet. Wendi respected the man for not being a total snob when it came to his wealth. Plus, he wasn't bad looking.

She flipped to the next page, which had a newspaper article attached to it, along with a picture. The man had thick dark hair and glasses. Wendi tilted her head, mouth opening slightly as she read the words on the bio. She squinted a little, Phil's fancy handwriting making her blink more than usual.

_Banner is considered one of the greatest scientific minds on Earth, possessing "a mind so brilliant it cannot be measured on any known intelligence test."__He holds expertise in biology, chemistry, engineering, physiology, and nuclear physics. Using this knowledge, Banner creates advanced technology dubbed "Bannertech", which is on par with technological development from Tony Stark or Doctor Doom. Some of these technologies include a__ force field __that can protect him from the attacks of Hulk-level entities, and a__ teleportation device. _

There were more notes, mentioning the man's exposure to gamma rays, and his "ability" to transform into a green, super-powered behemoth called the "Hulk" when under emotional distress. Wendi looked at the picture again and then took all of them out, lining up Tony, Steve, Bruce, and Clint, along with Agent Romanov's picture and staring at them all for a while. Abruptly she snorted with laughter and picked up the first three, giggling.

"Stark, Spangled, Banner." she said with a chuckle and began to hum the national anthem before stuffing the photos back where they belonged and into the notebook.

Wendi picked her bag up and shuffled around before exiting the chopper, combat boots touching the tarmac. She gave a heavy sigh and headed towards the massive helicarrier, eyes flaring as she took it all in. _The thing's bigger than my college was! _She looked around for her brother, and then jumped as someone called out her name.

"Wendi! Over here!" Agent Devereaux waved to her and she walked quickly, avoiding the small humvees and vehicles that were crisscrossing over the platform. The two walked up a ramp and into a thick steel door, where Wendi saw Phil standing next to a small staircase and talking on a phone, his tone threatening.

"You're at 114 Solenski Plaza, 3rdfloor. We have an F22 exactly 8 miles out. Put the woman on the phone or I will blow up the block before you can make the lobby." Wendi caught bits and pieces of the conversation. "No, _I've _got Stark. _You_ get the big guy."

He closed his phone and turned to Wendi, who was fussing with her glasses, which had slipped off of her nose and hit the floor. Without them, her vision doubled and blurred. She could see her brother moving towards her and his hand touched her face for a second as he readjusted the lenses on her face. "I have an errand to run, I want you to-"

"No." the words was spoken clearly and Phil watched as his sister's face grew defiant. She crossed her arms and pouted like a 13-year-old. "I'm going too."

He groaned mentally, knowing that arguing with her would make it worse, but she didn't need to go with him. "Wendi, you're staying here and that's final. I can't look after you while I'm in New York and I have to talk to someone import-" he stopped, because Wendi had looked over suddenly at Agent Hill, who was beckoning her over.

"Agent Dawson and Monroe need help organizing the weapons closet, can you help?" the older woman asked, and Wendi gave Phil a fleeting look, like she didn't know what to do, and he nodded gently.

"Maybe one of these days you can go on a mission with me, but not right now. It's too dangerous." Wendi's eyes narrowed, her hips tilting and her left foot going in front of the other, all of which were woman-speak signals for _your ass is about to get stomped_.

"Dangerous?" she scoffed. "Bro, have you ever swam in shark-infested waters? Slept in a 3rd world-esque village where the drug cartel comes in twice a week to take women and kill the men just because they can? Have you ever had to stay up for days, hiding in a tree because you were afraid you'd be kidnapped and murdered or some shit like that? Because I have. I may have mental disorders, and I may have a lower maturity level than is normal for a person my age, but don't ever underestimate my ability in dangerous situations. My self-preservation instinct works just fine, thank you very much." Without another word she turned on her heel and walked to where the two male agents were waiting for her, hands full of gun crates.

Phil was silent for a moment. His job was incredibly dangerous, but he had never really taken into account how Wendi's life had been while in South America. He thought back to all the things he'd read or seen or heard on the news about missing people, drug lords, and various kinds of chaos that made him realize his sister was right. Some aspects of his job weren't dangerous at all; especially going to New York to talk to someone about the Avengers. He sighed heavily and grabbed the thick file sitting nearby before walking outside towards a chopper.

...

"So Wendi, d'you play video games?" Agent Dawson asked with a grin. "I like Galaga myself."

Wendi nodded, "Namco games are fun, I was good at Tower of Druaga and Pole Position. I like fantasy games. Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy. World of Warcraft."

The two agents laughed and the three of them began discussing games, characters and plots. Devereaux got animated and began arguing with Wendi over which villain from Kingdom Hearts was the hardest; he said it was Xemnas, Wendi claimed Demyx.

"I'm sorry, but fighting Demyx on _Proud Mode_, while he's freaking 'dance, water, dance!'-ing you, compared to just getting sky-scrapered by Mansex is nothing. Demyx is harder." she peered into one of the crates and took out the small black metal box that sat underneath all of the guns and knives. She popped the top open and let out a small gasp of delight.

Nestled against the egg-carton foam was a 7-inch Quadro Drilling gun from Kreighoff. IT was a triple barreled shotgun pocket pistol with a self-cocking mechanism. The chrome finish gleamed, and Wendi grabbed a pair of vinyl gloves before gently pulling it from the case and examining it. Yup, there it was. Gold and mother-of-pearl inlay with a sterling silver swirl around the handle. She gave a sigh of want, this gun was too gorgeous to not show-off, but at the same time it was valued at almost five-hundred thousand dollars, so you didn't exactly want to broadcast ownership.

_I need it. _Wendi placed it back into the case and locked it with the small brass skeleton key that was attached to the handles. With a quick twist she tore off the key and stretched, quickly shoving the key into her sports bra. Her movements had gone unnoticed and she smirked triumphantly. _Minha arma_.

For the next three or so hours, the trio gathered various containers of weapons, ranging from handhelds to aerial, to trajectory, and organized them into crates by size and model. There were guns, knives, electrical prods, and some random shit like maces and a nice battle-axe that Wendi recognized. Early in its active lifespan, the battle axe was a simple chopping or crushing weapon. Although a few might have decorated blades, by far most were simple effective tools of war. But by the 16th century the axe became a highly decorated weapon. People realized that the shape could be made quite attractive without effecting the efficiency of the weapon. The birthplace of the Renaissance - Italy - saw the development of some really beautiful battle axes. This axe, circa 1500, had a strong hardened steel blade with cutouts. The back spike was gracefully curved but had the proper angle to deliver the maximum force when the spike is used. A short steel spike at the tip allows the axe to be used in a short, surprising thrust. The butt cap was made of a glossy steel and the shaft is hardwood, studded with brass tacks. She picked it up and examined it closer. The overall length was 28", a great length for one handed use.

Wendi smiled, _it's an impressive sidearm that combines both beauty and efficiency._

She loved all things historical, owned various books, films, and even replicas of some of the greatest weapons and props in history. She wanted the axe, but it was definitely too big to commandeer. _I wonder if Director Fury would let me buy it_...

She looked at her watch and pursed her lips. It was almost six. Dinner was at six-fifteen. She twitched, she had to stick to the schedule. She visualized her Army bag, she packed a good meal for dinner; black pepper turkey, lettuce, tomato, provolone and mustard on a sourdough roll with a baggie full of carrots and apple slices. _And ginger beer~!_

Agent Dawson yawned and sat down on one of the crates, his head falling into one of his hands in exhaustion. "Je suis si fatigué."

Wendi tilted her head. "You speak French?"

He nodded. "Took it in high school and college. I wanted to become a pastry chef in Paris, but this job pays better."

Devereaux sat beside his friend, "Do you speak anything besides English?"

"Portuguese, Spanish and I'm trying to learn Swedish."

"Swedish?" Dawson asked with a confused look. "Why that of all things?"

Wendi leaned over to whisper to the two men, "You know that LOki guy that attacked the other compound right? He's from Norse mythology, a god. The Norse language is dead, but various Slavic languages are based off of it, and I thought, what if Loki starts speaking a different language because he's the trickster god and wants to throw everyone off? Well, Swedish is the closest modern language with Norse roots, so I wanted to learn it so if he made threats or anything, I could tell Fury." she laughed, "I know it's a silly idea, I think weird things like that."

Dawson chuckled, "I didn't see that thought coming, I thought it was because you liked the country of Sweden."

"Or wanted to translate that dorky internet song with the weird dance, what the hell's it called?"

Wendi perked up, "Caramelldansen?"

"Yeah!"

She grinned, "I love that song!" she pulled out her iPod and scrolled through it until she reached the title. "I have lots of music on here from a bunch of different places."

Devereaux took the object, "I've got maybe thirty songs on mine."

"I have seventeen-hundred and twelve." Wendi stated proudly. "And I've memorized all of 'em."

Dawson made a weird face, "_Why_?"

"Because it's fun. I like memorizing things. You never know when you might need to recite something."

The trio kept talking about music, and started a question game asking Wendi stuff about herself, and the things she did for a living, and it wasn't until the woman's phone went off that they realized how much time had actually gone by. It was nearing nine-thirty, and the two agents had to be up early for their rotations.

"If we get a break, we'll drop by and see you." Dawson said, grabbing his jacket. "You're fun to talk to."

"I know, Hill and the others are so...blasé." Devereaux agreed, and the two men walked out together, Wendi giving a cheery little wave as they disappeared around the corner.

Maybe being with her brother wouldn't be so bad after all...


End file.
